


halfway across the world, out of your arms

by trilobites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Being Lost, Canon Compliant, Diaspora, Family Issues, Fights, Food, For Post-Time Skip, Friend Break Ups, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, Iwaizumi Hajime is a Sad Dog, M/M, Making Up, Mild Sexual Content, Oikawa Tooru is Bad at Feelings, Oikawa Tooru is a Mess, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Time Skip, Reconciliation, Soulmates, Spoilers, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26024554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilobites/pseuds/trilobites
Summary: After six years abroad, Oikawa visits his hometown in Miyagi and comes face to face with Iwaizumi for the first time since leaving Japan.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	1. strangers

“Tooru, step out to the mart, will you?”

Tooru looked up from his laptop, taken aback by the voice suddenly calling for his name. He’d been lost in reviewing his workout schedule for the next two weeks and taking stock of what equipment he had in his room. It was only when he heard his mother’s voice that he remembered that he was back in his childhood bedroom, not his apartment in San Juan. He set down the kettle ball and stuck his head out the door: “I’ll go right now!”

He pulled on his coat and gloves before going downstairs where his mother stood at the stove. She was making katsu curry, judging from the ingredients on the counter. Tooru felt too big in the small doorway, his shoulders nearly brushing either side of the threshold.

“I’m going now, Mom,” he announced.

“I sent you the list on LINE.” She turned back and looked at him. There was a moment of silence as she studied him in the kitchen threshold.

So she noticed, too, how he didn’t quite fit in this house like he used to. The bones of it hadn’t changed, even if the fixtures had, but Tooru had forgotten how to find comfort in it. He said nothing before turning to go to the entryway, where he pulled on his shoes with the shoehorn. His mother stood behind him to see him off. She was doing this much, at least. For the first few days of the visit, she could hardly lay eyes on him without sighing deeply.

“Do you need yen to pay?” she asked.

“No. I got some exchanged before coming.”

“Which mart are you going to?”

“The same one that I’ve always gone to.”

“The Lawson down the street moved.”

Tooru paused, then stood up. “Is that so? Then I’ll have to go to the new location.”

“It’s near the drugstore on the way to the sta—”

“I got it, Mom. I saw it on the way here,” he interrupted, feeling peevish. It was best to leave before he could get properly irritated. He slid open the door on its track and said “I’ll be back” before shutting it behind him.

Then it was just Tooru and the icy Miyagi air. It was colder than he remembered it being, but it was possible that he just missed the balmy Argentinian summer he’d left behind for a Christmas in Miyagi. As soon as the ink had dried on his naturalization papers and his passport had been issued, his parents hadn’t stopped asking when he would come see them. Three months of that passed before he’d relented and gotten on the plane back to Japan. And now he was on his way to the new Lawson because the old one had moved.

The list his mother had sent was so short, too: curry roux, apples, Kewpie mayo, ketchup. While he gathered the items, he also extra packages of the sweets that he’d missed eating. It hadn’t felt right to pay so much for import Japanese snacks when he knew how much they really cost. With a fistful of Hi-Chew and milk candy in addition to the ingredients, Tooru left the store in higher spirits than he’d entered. He took the long way back to the neighborhood so he could feel the wind on his cheeks and let his mind wander.

The road was empty, save for an oncoming figure headed towards where Tooru had come from. As the figure came closer, he realized exactly who it was.

“Iwa-chan?”

The figure stopped. They lifted the brim of their beanie, and Tooru saw that it was indeed Hajime. He looked right at Tooru, eyebrows raised in shock. The sharpness in his expression and the clean contours of his face were all Hajime, but the maturity there was new. He looked older, more assured. Tooru stared.

“Oh. Uh, didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.

That was his line! Tooru had prepared something biting and pithy to say the first moment he laid eyes on Hajime again, but all of the words leaked out of his ears and he was left with a contrary “I guess no one did.”

Tooru almost felt regretful for saying it. What was Hajime supposed to say in response to that? He bit his lip and lifted the bag in his hand.

“My mom sent me to get things, so…I should go now.”

“Uh, yeah, of course. Tell your mom I said hi.”

If Hajime wanted to say hi to his mom, he could do it himself! Tooru didn’t answer before he continued on his way. There had been a time when silences between them had been a source of comfort; they used to be able to walk the entire way home from school without saying anything to each other and be perfectly content. Tooru didn’t want yet another reminder of the olden days, so he walked as fast as he could. He didn’t look back.

When he got home, he left the bag on the kitchen table and went upstairs promptly without greeting anyone. He only tore off his coat and gloves before returning to the workout schedule and inventory he’d interrupted. Kettle bell, 15kg; medicine ball, 10kg; resistance tubes. Now that he was in the confines of his old room, he had enough clarity to properly regret being rude to Hajime. As good as it had felt in San Juan to recite his grievances, he knew there would be no real satisfaction in actually following through with it. Regardless of how bitter their last conversation had been, he should have at least asked him how he was doing.

“What the hell,” he muttered. “I mean, why did he show up like that?” Forget that he had never bothered to inform Hajime of his plans to visit Miyagi. It wasn’t a double standard if Hajime was the one who’d been in the wrong. Tooru couldn’t be expected to make the first conciliatory gesture in such a case.

He set down the medicine ball in his hands; his head was too full of thoughts. A run would do take care of that. Yes, it wouldn’t do to sit around eating candy and get lazy while his mother fed him all his favorite foods. He changed his clothes and took out his running shoes from his suitcase. The plastic bag crinkled in his hands as he walked downstairs, tiptoeing past his mother in the kitchen. He pulled on the running shoes and announced: “I’m going for a run!” before leaving hastily.

Tooru crossed the courtyard in three quick steps and opened the gate. In the threshold stood Hajime, whose finger was raised to the intercom buzzer. Tooru blinked. They both stood frozen, eyes wide as they stared at one another.

“Shit,” Hajime breathed, breaking the silence. “Just—never mind, I’ll come back later.” He turned to leave.

“Wait.”

Hajime didn’t wait. He was walking away hurriedly. Was he really going to come back later? Like Tooru would accept that! He followed after him.

“Iwa-chan, wait!”

“I said that I’d come back later!”

Hajime was walking faster now, but Tooru’s legs were longer. He was catching up to him, and this fact seemed to trigger their mutual, deep-seated competitive streak. Hajime started to run, breaking out into a full sprint while Tooru had barely started speed-walking. Seriously? He ran without regard for warming up. Right now, Hajime was the target and he was going out of reach. Tooru pumped his legs hard to chase after him.

“Iwa-chan, stop running!”

“I fucking told you already!” Hajime shouted, his voice being carried off into the late winter’s afternoon mountain winds.

Tooru fought against the upward incline of the road; his feet slapped down against the pavement, and he saw Hajime’s brogues doing the same, ill-suited as they were for the job. Eventually, they reached the top of the incline, and rather than stopping, Hajime got his second wind. He ran even faster, and Tooru had no choice but to follow suit. There was no way he would lose to Hajime.

“Get back here!” he roared.

“How about you get lost!”

Despite his best efforts, Hajime slowed. Running in those shoes had taken their toll, and no matter how involved in volleyball he was, he wasn’t an athlete for a living like Tooru was. Tooru grabbed onto the back of his coat, feeling triumphant. Tooru’s victory lasted for all of two seconds, before the sudden difference in momentum sent them both tumbling to the ground.

“Whoa!” he cried out, as they fell in a heap on a barren lawn in the neighborhood park. Tooru’s landing was padded by Hajime, who grunted with the impact. Tooru winced. This kind of horseplay had been fun and games even in high school, but he’d grown since then—in height and weight both. His whole body covered Hajime’s easily now.

“Shit, you’re fucking heavy,” Hajime gasped.

“If you just hadn’t—” Tooru cut himself off, breathing hard. “Sorry.”

He got off of Hajime and collapsed next to him on the scratchy, dry grass. They panted, breaths misting out against the grey of the afternoon sky. Tooru caught his breath first, so he waited until Hajime’s breathing slowed into something even. Neither of them spoke, but it wasn’t awkward like it had been earlier. Tooru sat up and looked down at Hajime. Sweat was trickling down his hairline, but he seemed no worse for the wear.

“You still run fast,” he said.

Hajime snorted. “Just because I’m an athletic trainer now doesn’t mean I stopped exercising.”

That much was evident. Even under the his coat, Tooru could make out the defined outline of his shoulders and arms.

“So, when did you get here?”

“A few days ago. You?”

“Today.”

“You drove?”

“Ha! Nice one.” Hajime sat up and looked at him. “Did anyone come get you at the airport?”

Hajime phrased it as a question, but there was a knowing look in his eyes. Tooru exhaled loudly. He’d taken the bullet train because he hadn’t wanted to get picked up by his brother and sister-in-law when they were supposed to come up to Miyagi with Takeru.

“You took the train, didn’t you.”

How did he always know? Tooru shrugged, before he stood up and brushed the bits of grass off his pants. His plans for today’s run had been ruined—first by the errand, and now by this, whatever this was. He knew that he should have said something to Hajime first about the last time that they talked, but it was easier to act like nothing had happened and brush it aside. After all, when they were together like this, that almost felt true. So Tooru didn’t bring up the fight over the webcam, when they’d both raised their voices like they hadn’t done since they’d been kids at Kitagawa Daichi.

“Do you want to come over for dinner? I think my mom’s making katsu curry.” 

“I didn’t buy anything to bring over.”

It was Tooru’s turn to snort. “Please. Just seeing her precious Hajime-kun will be present enough. So are you coming?”

Tooru held out his hand. Hajime tilted his head, and Tooru resolutely didn’t compare him to a giant dog (maybe an Akita). “Okay,” he said, then took Tooru’s hand and let him pull him up to his feet.

They walked back down the hill together, shoulders brushing casually like they’d done their whole lives. Tooru found it easy to forget that their last words had been spoken in anger, because as always, Hajime was patient and forgiving with him. He listened to the half-familiar sounds of distant traffic and the rush of the wind rustling the trees. When he stood up here, it felt like nothing had changed from the time that he called this place home.

“When are you going back?” Hajime asked.

“After the New Year. On the 5th. You?”

“Going back down after the weekend, but then I’m coming back for the New Year.”

That was right before Christmas Eve. Tooru smiled widely down at Hajime. “Ooh, is that so? Do you finally have someone to eat a Christmas cake with, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime scowled, his brow creasing with displeasure. “What are you even saying?” He never answered Tooru properly, though. They moved on from the subject, until he said, “When you go back, I’ll take you to the airport.”

“You don’t need to. I can manage.”

“I know. But just…let me do it. You shouldn’t leave on your own.”

There was a strange distance in Hajime’s voice, like he was thinking of something faraway. His face was turned away from Tooru, so he couldn’t even begin to guess what that something was. Before he could ask him, they were at the gate to his parents’ home. Hajime pressed the intercom buzzer to greet Tooru’s mother, who answered with exactly as much enthusiasm as Tooru had predicted. The moment to seek some clarity passed, further and further away, leaving only an impression in Tooru’s mind of all the questions that still burned inside him.

* * *

Tooru sat next to Hajime at the table, staring at the traditional wall scroll of a crane that his mother had put up. Apparently one of his father’s friends had given it to them. Hand-painted, she said, so it would be rude not to hang it up. Privately he thought it was rude to make someone feel obligated to put up an old-fashioned wall scrolling that didn’t even match the rest of their decor. He hadn’t been able to stop looking at it each time he sat down to eat with his family. Hajime didn’t seem similarly affected. He was answering his mother’s questions with all the pleasantness in the world.

“Hajime-kun, are you coming back for the New Year?”

“Ah, yes. Is there something you’d like me to bring back from Tokyo?”

“Oh, nonsense! I can have Tooru’s brother pick things up if I need. You should just bring yourself to visit.”

Tooru ate mechanically, chewing on the flaky breading of the katsu. For the first time since coming back to Miyagi, he felt a little bit at ease. Rather than sighing or making poor attempts at conversation, his parents both were asking Hajime about his job, how his parents were doing, whether the air purifier they’d given him was helpful. Next to him, Tooru was like a bowl of cold rice. That was fine by him. Not that he was one to shirk the spotlight, but this certainly beat being Public Enemy No. 1. When Hajime looked at him sidelong while his parents weren’t looking, he gave him a thumbs up. He raised an eyebrow, but Tooru didn’t miss the way his lips twitched.

After dinner, they sat in front of the television and peeled tangerines while the news played in the background. He and Hajime made quiet small talk about the quality of the tangerines and the news anchor’s suit in the presence of Tooru’s parents. The evening had started out comfortable, but was now verging on stuffy. When he’d been in high school, Tooru had rarely sat with his family like this, busy as he’d been with club duties and school. However, this wasn’t like high school; he knew he’d only be digging his grave deeper if he went out to call on friends after over five years abroad without so much as visiting home once.

“Are you still going to show me your schedule?” Hajime suddenly asked.

What? “Huh?”

“You know,” he said significantly, “the one for your knee that you were asking me about earlier. You said you had questions about it.”

Tooru could take a hint. He raised his index finger to indicate that he did, in fact, know what this schedule was. “Oh! Oh, yeah! That’s right. I have questions. Wow, you’ve become so thoughtful, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime thwapped at his finger. “I’ve always been thoughtful!”

The reaction was genuine, and it made it easy for Tooru to turn to his father and say “We’re going upstairs now.”

They didn’t wait or a response before retreating upstairs, where Tooru promptly closed the door behind him. He let out a breath and sat down next to the array of kettle balls he’d been looking at earlier. His suitcase was stowed in the corner of the room, and he hadn’t even unpacked properly. Hajime was looking around the room, taking in all of these details. Tooru resisted the urge to start neatening up. He waited until Hajime sat down, too.

“Thanks. For that.”

Hajime shrugged. “Your dad was nodding off anyway.”

“You don’t have to come visit again for the new year if you don’t want to.”

This was where Hajime looked at him like he was funny. “I don’t mind. It’s kind of nice.”

Tooru huffed. He supposed it _would_ be nice for his parents’ precious Hajime, who was so very considerate and knew to come back from studying abroad in California and settle down in Japan when all was said and done. Rather than confide in Hajime about any of this, he pulled out his workout schedule and handed it over.

“I’m working on this.”

“What is it?” Hajime took it in hand, then looked down at it. He grinned. “Surprised that you didn’t buy volleyballs first thing that you got here so you could add drills to this.”

“I wanted to! But I couldn’t carry them on the train, you know!” His hands itched from the lack of activity. He would forget how to handle the ball entirely come January. “I’m going to lose it, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime studied the schedule and stroked his chin. “I probably have a few old balls at my parents’. I’ll look for them tonight.”

“Really?” Tooru couldn’t help looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Hajime sighed.

“Yeah, really, so stop acting like you’re under house arrest, Shittykawa.” He reached up, like he was going to flick him, but all he did was tap his fingertips against his forehead. Tooru blinked at him, his face heating. Hajime cleared his throat. “Anyway, we should follow your schedule together. While I’m here.”

That broke Tooru out of his bewilderment. “What, like you’re going to work out with me? Do you think you’ll be able to keep up?”

“I told you already: it’s not like I stopped just because I’m not playing volleyball all the time anymore. Besides, my mom’s going to keep feeding me way too much.” He passed back the schedule to Tooru. “So, what do you say?”

Tooru didn’t really have a reason to reject him. And besides, if an offer like this was on the table, then it meant that Hajime wasn’t mad at him anymore, right? He knew how to take a peace offering when it was presented to him. It would be better than sweating in his room or taking a running trail on his own.

“Then meet me at 7 a.m. outside your house. And don’t be late.”

“Ha, says you. Aren’t you still on Argentinean time?”

Tooru was an adult now—really! Still, he wasn’t too mature to stick out his tongue. Hajime only rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath about shitty attitudes. The atmosphere between them was easy and familiar again, so Tooru relaxed and rested his head against his knees before asking Hajime about what he’d been doing since coming back to Japan. They talked deep into the night like they were picking up right where they’d last left off.


	2. crossed the line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oikawa makes some discoveries and mistakes. There's Christmas cake.

What Hajime had said wasn’t so off the mark. Tooru _was_ still on Argentinean time, which meant that it felt more like the evening to him even though the morning sun was just visible over the horizon. His breath came out in a thick mist as he hopped in place. The gate opened to a bleary-eyed Hajime, whose hair was sticking up at an irreparably odd angle. He looked like he’d rather have been in bed, but no doubt thinking of losing to Tooru had made him drag himself outside. What a bad way to spend his vacation. Tooru grinned.

“Regret agreeing to this yet, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime flipped him off and started the jog. Tooru caught up and kept the pace, letting him speed up as he woke up. That was, of course, a mistake, because Hajime apparently wasn’t lying even one bit when he said that he’d been keeping up with his workouts. He was scaling the incline up the paved mountainside like it was only a minor burden. Tooru would have thought that he was doing it for show, but Hajime hadn’t even started sweating yet. Only after their second lap around the mountain’s base did Hajime finally start flagging. Tooru hated to admit it, but he was winded, too. He propped himself up on his knees and narrowed his eyes at Hajime.

“What kind of athletic trainer are you?” he demanded, panting. “I thought you were doing medical stuff! As in you sit inside while everyone else runs around!”

“Seriously? You’re such a bad fucking sport.”

Without warning, Hajime tugged down the hood of Tooru’s windbreaker over his eyes. Tooru yelped and batted his hand away, only to hear Hajime laughing. The sound of it soothed Tooru’s indignation, and he peeked out from underneath the hood. The endorphins had Hajime in a good humor. Tooru took in the sight of his expression, brighter than it was sharp in the light of the orange marmalade horizon. An answering smile tugged at his own lips.

“Race you back home,” he said.

“Yeah? Let’s go.”

This time Hajime waited until Tooru called it to start running, but in the end, his stamina couldn’t keep up with Tooru’s. He slowed down to accommodate him, which seemed to piss Hajime off. Not enough to say anything about it, though. Hajime’s mouth just twisted ruefully. So the run earlier had been a little bit of bravado on his end; it pleased Tooru that he still hated losing that much. He eventually transitioned into a brisk walk instead. They were coming down the street of their neighborhood when he was explaining pedantically, “A good cool down is just as important as a good run.”

Hajime opened his mouth to retort, when they heard bicycle bells ringing loud behind them. High-pitched voices whooped, and Tooru turned his head to see a group of kids hurtling down the road straight at them. Not a moment too soon, he jumped out of the way, trying to avoid colliding with Hajime in the process. The end result was that he stepped down on his foot at an odd angle, and a quick flash of pain went through the column of his leg. All the while, the kids zipped past as Hajime yelled after them: “Watch where you’re going!”

“Honestly, kids…” he muttered, before looking at Tooru. “Are you okay?”

Tooru threw up his middle and index fingers, and smiled. “All good.”

Then he stepped forward and felt the pain shoot up his knee again. He winced, and Hajime’s hand was on his elbow in an instant.

“What is it?”

“Ah, well, you see…”

“Shittykawa, you have 5 seconds to start talking.”

Tooru huffed. “You could at least not call me poop while you fuss over me!” He saw Hajime’s brow darken dangerously, though, so he changed tact and began talking quickly. “You know how this knee gets sometimes. It’s not like it’s ever been that serious, but it does get strained. I just haven’t been working it out properly since I got to Japan.”

Rather than making to berate him like Tooru expected, Hajime’s brow furrowed with concern. “Are you sure you haven’t been playing through pain?”

“I haven’t! I swear!”

“Okay, well you should still let me take a look at it. I have some of my supplies at my parents’ house, so come by right now.”

He tugged on Tooru’s elbow again, insistent, and that didn’t leave him with much choice, did it? Tooru obediently allowed Hajime to pull his arm over his shoulder and support his weight as they walked the rest of the way to his parents’. The sweat drying on Tooru’s nape was sticky, and he felt strands of his fringe unattractively pasted against his forehead. Hajime didn’t seem to notice, however. He only unlocked the gate to his parents’ home and walked into the house announcing himself. There was no answering voice. His parents must have been out. Hajime sat him down on one of the sofas in the living room.

“You stay down here.” He pointed at Tooru like he was a dog learning a new trick, frowning disapprovingly when Tooru told him this.

Hajime left the room and returned with a small bag, which he set by Tooru’s feet. Then he went into the kitchen, where he got ice and a bag with brisk efficiency. His movements were practiced as he kneeled in front of Tooru and poured the ice into the bag.

“I need you to take off your pants.”

The pronouncement was innocent, considering the circumstances, but Tooru felt himself blushing in spite of himself. The corner of his mouth lifted, and his awful habit when he was embarrassed reared its head.

“Haha, all of it? Aren’t we moving too fast, Iwa-chan?”

At that, Hajime flicked his forehead. Hard.

“Ow! Why?” He rubbed the sore spot, feeling betrayed.

“Stop messing around just because you’re scared that I’ll find something wrong with your knee.”

Tooru guiltily looked sideways. For once, Hajime was off the mark—not that he was going to inform him of this fact. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his compression tights and shorts and pulled them down slowly. After years of constant contact, it wasn’t like Tooru had never undressed in front of him. However, this was admittedly different from a locker room or a sleepover.

“Hey.”

Tooru looked back at him. “What?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m sure you know how to care of yourself, especially more than…” Hajime trailed off. Than he used to. They both knew a lot about that, didn’t they? Hajime smiled a little at him, brow smooth and gaze clear. “I just got worried is all. Can’t have CA San Juan’s Oikawa Tooru sustaining an injury on my watch.”

Tooru blinked. It took him a moment to recognize that the look in Hajime’s expression was tenderness. He didn’t know how to respond to that, only that he shouldn’t open his mouth and say something stupid. This wasn’t a special or even noteworthy instance, just one of many occurrences in this interminable visit. What was so remarkable about it that Hajime was looking at him like that? His face burned.

“I’m fine,” he said, voice quiet. “Even if you worry or don’t worry, that doesn’t change.”

“Ha, yeah. I figured.” Hajime shrugged once. The tone of finality in his words suddenly made Tooru think of their conversation, buffered by grainy screen quality and the distance of an ocean.

Hajime took the bowl with the ice bag in hand. “Then I’ll just clean this up then see you out.”

“Wait, Iwa-chan.” He reached out and grabbed onto the shoulder of Hajime’s jacket. Hajime stopped as asked, but looked at him questioningly. Touches usually went one way with them: Hajime smacking him, sharing a triumphant high-five, ruffling his hair after a well-executed play. It wasn’t often that Tooru reached out first. His knees bracketed Hajime between them, brushing up against his warmth, and he ran his thumb over the curve of Hajime’s shoulder. They stared at each other, eyes widening. Hajime’s gaze unmistakably went to his mouth before flitting away; he was going to let Tooru kiss him.

Tooru leaned down, and saw Hajime lift his chin to meet him. His eyes fell closed, and Tooru followed suit. Hajime’s breath tickled against his chin.

Then there was clattering and the well-worn sound of the front door opening on its track. People were home. They leaped apart abruptly. Whatever mood had been building in the room deflated, and it was just him and Hajime sitting in his parents’ living room once more. Tooru gathered his bearings first, letting go of Hajime’s jacket and standing to his feet. He went out to the entry, where Hajime’s mom was carrying in groceries. Her face lit up when she saw him standing there.

“Tooru-kun! It’s so wonderful to see you. Hajime told us that you were back.”

Tooru smiled widely at her. “Let me help you with that,” he said, going to take the bags from her.

There was a strange dissonance in the familiarity of this routine. He’d greeted Hajime’s mother almost as often as his own, over the years. Yet just moments ago, he’d been ready to kiss Hajime within the confines of this familiarity. He swallowed.

“I should have come to see you sooner, but I didn’t know when you would be home.”

“No, no. I’m sure your parents must want you to stick close to home.”

They walked into the kitchen, where Hajime stood at the sink disposing of the ice. He turned around and looked at Tooru and his mother. When he saw the bags, he frowned.

“You should have let me go with you to the store.” Only Hajime would start nagging his own mother about her habits. She looked at Tooru like she knew exactly what he was thinking, and they shared a silent moment of sympathy for one another.

“Well, I should get going. I’ll bring you the gifts from Argentina later, auntie.”

“Oh, you’re going? I’ll see you out,” Hajime said.

Tooru waved dismissively. “I can see myself out. Bye, auntie! Bye, Iwa—uh, Hajime…”

His face heated again, and he made a beeline for the exit. Thankfully, his knee wasn’t bothering him anymore. He slipped on his shoes and walked home in a daze. It was only when he was submerged in the warmth of the bathtub that he reflected what had transpired that morning. The phantom scent of Hajime’s sweat and sunscreen lingered. Tooru glared down at his knee. Probably, most likely, almost definitely, he was in trouble.

* * *

The next day, Hajime showed up at Tooru’s with the promised volleyballs. He didn’t linger for long afterwards, only asking him about his knee before leaving to run errands for his mother. It was surprisingly easy to act like nothing had happened, but then it also wasn’t. Hajime hadn’t contacted him again about running or exercising. Every time he opened up the LINE app and thought about asking Hajime to run again, his thumb lingered over the ‘send’ button until he stowed the phone under his pillow and gave up. Just like that, the weekend passed, and Tooru let Hajime return to the city with a quick “I’m going back to Tokyo now. I’ll still see you for the new year, right?” on LINE.

Three days later, Tooru finally replied: “Yeah. Thanks for the volleyballs.” A brilliant contribution, if he said so himself.

Now that Hajime was gone, it left Tooru with even more time to himself. He spent most of it making himself food and going out on walks through the neighborhood. He periodically sat at the kitchen table downstairs to watch game replays on his phone, hoping that it would appease his mother for the time that he’d spent away. See? That wasn’t because Oikawa Tooru was an awful child. It was because he was very busy and very dedicated to volleyball. She didn’t say much to him even when he was there, however, so he returned back to his room to do much of the same.

It had been over a week since he first came back to Miyagi, and his mother’s attitude was as frosty as ever. And not to mention his newfound problems with Hajime.

“This isn’t restful,” he said aloud. Of course, there was no one to answer him, which was the whole problem. He lay on his futon and did breathing exercises until he fell asleep.

He was drifting in and out of a dream where Hajime was announcing his marriage to a bodybuilder and planning to relocate to Canada to raise moose when he heard a knock on his door. Tooru’s eyes opened, and he saw that the room was washed in dark blue. How long had he been asleep?

“Tooru, are you asleep?”

He switched on his bedside lamp before answering the door. His mother stood in the darkened doorway.

“No, mom. What is it?”

“You should get ready to come eat soon. Your brother is almost here.”

That was right. His brother and his sister-in-law were coming with Takeru to visit on Christmas Eve. He sighed none too subtly, which made his mother frown.

“Is that today?” he asked.

“I told you it was.”

“It just slipped my mind. I’ll be down soon.”

Tooru’s mother looked at him like she had something more to say, but then she nodded and left him alone in his room. He flipped open one of his suitcases and stared at the array of souvenirs he’d brought with him. Even if he didn’t care for such things, this much was expected of him as a working adult. He flipped through the bags with leather goods he’d gotten for his brother and sister-in-law, the Malbec wine for Hajime’s parents, jars of dulce de leche. At the bottom of the stack was a first edition book of Argentinean monsters and cryptids. It was all written in Spanish, but Tooru thought that Hajime would enjoy the pictures regardless. Whenever he got the chance to give it to him.

Downstairs, he heard the front door opening and the sounds of his brother’s voice. He ran a comb through his hair and put on a new shirt before grabbing the bags with their gifts. If nothing else, at least his suitcase would be lighter when he went back to San Juan.

* * *

“But then none of my friends believed it, until I showed them a video of you playing. And now they’re always bothering me for autographs.”

Takeru was sitting at the far end of the table with Tooru, who was picking at the flakes of fried batter from the tempura. He put one in his mouth and chewed. This wasn’t the best way to spend Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t the worst way, either. Ideally, he would have liked to spend it with someone cute and savor in the romance that the holiday brought. Still, rather this than sitting with his brother and parents, who were discussing real estate in all seriousness. At least Takeru knew how to appreciate volleyball.

“So let me get this straight: your entire team wants me to sign the things you brought with you.”

Takeru nodded. “Yeah.”

“You know that people pay for my autograph, right?”

“Don’t be stingy, Tooru!”

From the other end of the table, his sister-in-law chastised Takeru for his lack of manners. Tooru interjected, only so that Takeru wouldn’t do something to make him break out into goosebumps, like actually call him ‘uncle.’ Wouldn’t _that_ just make this Christmas Eve even jollier and brighter.

“It’s fine. It’s more comfortable for me this way, too.”

He and Takeru weren’t so far apart in age anyway. It was even less than between Tooru and his brother. He knew better than to bring that up, though, so he sidestepped it altogether by offering to sign as many things as Takeru wanted.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He stood up and let Takeru lead him to the living room, where he had two bags full of volleyball paraphernalia. Tooru sat down with a permanent marker in hand and began signing, though he had to draw the line at the kid who asked for one of Tooru’s socks.

“Just tell the one who gave you his volleyball shoes to give the other shoe to him,” he said, signing along the side of the rubber heel. What was it with kids these days?

Tooru was in the middle of lamenting that he’d just thought something like an old fogey when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw that Hajime was calling him. What a rarity. He picked up immediately.

“Hello? Iwa-chan? This better not be a butt dial.”

“Uh, hey. Are you busy?”

Tooru looked down at the Hatsune Miku ball inflater that he was signing. “No.”

“Then…do you want to come outside and let me in?”

“What? Where are you right now?” Tooru straightened up where he sat. “No way. Are you maybe saying that you’re in front of my house right now?”

Hajime sighed. “Look, it’s fucking cold, so either let me in or not.”

Tooru got up and started walking towards the door. He didn’t stop to inform his parents of Hajime’s arrival, just jammed his feet into his shoes and ran for the gate. Hajime was standing in front, wrapped in a solid maroon and grey muffler and a blouson. His boots had been polished, the toes of them gleaming in the moonlight.

“What are you doing here?” Tooru asked, bewildered. “I thought you weren’t coming back until the new year.”

“Plans changed. I got extra leave because people were cancelling appointments at the center left and right.” He lifted a box in his hand and dangled it in front of Tooru. It was white, stiff cardboard with curved handles. “Plus, I have cake. Do you want to eat it?”

Cake had no real place in his diet, but this wasn’t just any kind of cake. It was a Christmas cake. Tooru remembered suddenly how he’d asked Hajime if he had anyone special to eat cake with on Christmas Eve. Apparently not, if he was going to come all the way back to Miyagi to eat one with Tooru. He smiled, pleased with this realization.

“Okay,” he said, and let Hajime in. He made sure to lock the gate behind them.

* * *

Following a round of greetings and making offerings of cake to the rest of Tooru’s family, Hajime supervised while Tooru impatiently finished signing the last of Takeru’s classmates’ belongings. Unlike Tooru, he seemed completely unbothered about talking to Takeru about his club activities, what his plans for the New Year were, whether he’d watched any movies that he liked recently. He even listened with a straight face as Takeru earnestly consulted with him about his plans to go to a shrine with a girl in his class.

“If a girl says she’ll go to the shrine with you, does that mean she likes you?”

“Huh. Not sure, but maybe that’s because I’m not her. Why don’t you try asking?”

“No way! Hajime-san, if you were in my shoes, you wouldn’t ask her, would you?”

Hajime stroked his chin. Tooru kept his eyes trained on the postcard in front of him, but he felt how Hajime’s gaze lingered on him. It made his nape prickle with self-consciousness.

“Guess not,” he said, finally.

Tooru shoved the postcard at Takeru, ears burning. “Is this the last of it?”

Takeru blinked. “Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks, Tooru!”

Thankfully, Hajime didn’t comment on his interjection, even when they were alone upstairs in Tooru’s room again. They sat at his desk and ate cake, and all the while Tooru wondered what it meant that Hajime had returned early to Miyagi. Had he really bought the cake to eat with him? That had to mean something. He looked out of the corner of his eye at Hajime, who was forking his cake like this was completely normal.

“Sooo,” he said, “what brings you back to Miyagi so soon?”

Hajime sighed. Then Tooru saw it: the furrow in his brow that meant he was actually irritated. He nudged Hajime with his elbow, and was met with a glare. Tooru smiled as sweetly as he knew how.

“Tell the great Oikawa-san all, and I’ll listen to your woes, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime rolled his eyes and said nothing. Several minutes of silence passed before he answered: “I kind of got dumped.”

That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear at all. “ _What_?! Huh?” Then why had he been so willing to let Tooru kiss him? He stared hard at Hajime, and had his face pushed back out of Hajime’s space for it.

“It wasn’t like we were dating. And since we were both single, we thought it’d be better to spend Christmas Eve together rather than sit at home alone.” For sex, he meant. So that was where the cake had come from. Tooru could admit here that he was reeling.

“Haha, so then why are you here? Shouldn’t you be begging for that person to take you back?” he asked, dropping his fork indelicately onto the plate. His voice sounded too brittle to his ears, but he’d already said it. He couldn’t take the words back even if he wanted to. “It’s probably not too late to catch a train back. Maybe I should spit the cake back up so you can take that with you, too.”

Hajime narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting so pissy for?”

“Me? Nope, not pissy at all,” he said evenly.

“You can stop shitting me. We both know that you’re going to tell me sooner or later, so why don’t you just make it easy on us both?”

Tooru shook his head. He wasn’t angry or jealous or betrayed, because that was patently ridiculous. It was totally fine that he’d misread all the signals—that he hadn’t been Hajime’s first option or even an option at all until the options had been removed forcibly from his grasp. If he was embarrassed to have thought that Hajime coming here on a gently snowing Christmas Eve meant something, then that was his problem.

“Oikawa.”

“For the last time, I’m not—” He stopped when Hajime grabbed his upper arm, touch hot through his shirt. Hajime had always known that this was one of the few ways to really reach him, and in turn, Tooru had always known how to respond to that physicality. Hajime’s eyes were flint-sharp as they looked at Tooru. All of his obfuscations were pointless before him.

“What’s your point? Just spit it out.”

“The point?”

The point was that it had been eight months before this that he’d even so much as heard a peep from Hajime, and that only coincidence had brought them back here. The point was that apparently in that time, there had been someone else in the picture. If he was lonely, couldn’t he have come to Tooru? Why was he looking for things like sex with someone else? Wasn’t it obvious that his path was always meant to lead back to Tooru? Rather than ask any of this, Tooru leaned forward and kissed Hajime.

He overshot the distance and pressed too hard at first, but then Hajime was pushing him back, easing him into a softer kiss. Tooru watched him through his lashes; his brow was still creased, eyes closed as he tilted his head to kiss Tooru better. Shit. Tooru’s heart thudded hard in his chest, and then his eyes fell closed, too. It didn’t take long for their kissing to grow slick, open-mouthed with muffled sighs between them. The inside of Hajime’s mouth tasted like cake cream, too sweet and indulgent; it didn’t match whatever expectations that he’d harbored. He’d lick all of that out, until he was the only taste left in Hajime’s mouth.

Tooru pulled away and pushed Hajime down onto his back. Now that he’d started, he wouldn’t be the one to stop it. He looked down at Hajime, waiting to see if he’d take it on himself to put an end to this. However, there was only wanting in his face, smoothing down his edges into something yielding. For him. No matter who else had ever seen this, it didn’t change that right now, this was for him. The thought made Tooru shiver as he lay on top of Hajime and kissed him again.

His tongue probed Hajime’s mouth, and he groaned when Hajime sucked on it. Their breaths intermingled, hot puffs that grew louder with their excitement. Tooru ran his hand down Hajime’s ribcage, then under the hem of his button-up, up his abdomen. Hajime gasped and arched under his touch. He was surprisingly compliant. Tooru’s whole body heated at this discovery. He descended on Hajime’s neck, pressing kisses there while he dragged the blunt edge of his nails down Hajime’s skin.

“Fuck,” Hajime breathed. Then he swallowed a deep breath and put a hand over Tooru’s wrist. “Wait. Wait a second.”

He was pulling Tooru’s hand out of his shirt, and Tooru backed off immediately. He sat back on his heels and breathed deeply through his nose. On the floor, Hajime’s face was red and his shirt was rucked up to expose his stomach, like a figure from an elaborately shot softcore porn. He sat up and pulled his shirt back down.

“We should…not keep doing that,” he said.

“What? Why?”

Hajime ignored him, gathering the plates on Tooru’s desk instead.

“Are you even listening to me? Iwa-chan?”

Hajime sighed and set the plates down. “Yeah, I’m listening. Not like I’d have much of a choice, with you squawking and all.”

He didn’t understand the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Just moments ago they had been kissing on the floor together, and now Hajime was holding him at an arm’s length. Tooru was too confused to even be indignant.

“If you’re trying to tell me that you don’t have feelings for me—”

“Come on. Seriously? You are the most self-centered bastard.”

And there was his indignation. Tooru’s mouth hung open. “What the hell?”

“We’ve resolved nothing, but everything’s all okay because I like you anyway, right?”

“Resolved what?” As soon as he asked, the answer dawned upon him. Was he talking about the fight over his naturalization papers? Tooru scoffed in disbelief. “Really? If you wanted to resolve that, then maybe you should have done that first! Before you let me kiss you—twice! What was I supposed to think?”

Hajime raised an eyebrow at him, his jaw clenched tight. His angry tells. Tooru steeled himself. He was inured to this after a lifetime of knowing Hajime.

“I should have just fucking ignored you when I saw you in the street,” he muttered as he ran a hand through his hair. “What were you supposed to think? Maybe about how I feel, like at any given point—when you were going to naturalize or when I saw you again here, at home. Really sorry that I’m not made of stone so I didn’t shove you away every time you projected any amount of neediness at me!”

“‘Neediness’? When was I needy?” he demanded. “Also stop making this into my fault!”

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

Tooru could scream. “Maybe if you made sense, I would!”

“Let’s say that we have sex or date or whatever other frivolous thing you get into your head. Then what? You’re still going back to Argentina, right? You can’t even stay here past ninety days anymore.

“Then where does that leave me? If you had even once asked me what I thought about it, then maybe it would be a different story, but I’m not doing it. Not like this.”

For once, it was Tooru who lost control of his temper first. He fisted at Hajime’s collar and yanked him in closer. They were nearly chest-to-chest. Tooru’s pulse pounded loud in his head.

“You were the one who told me to follow my path no matter what! You said! You knew I would do what I wanted however I wanted to! How would it change anything even if I asked you how you felt?” Tooru felt his lips tremble, and he bowed his head. He refused to cry or to voice any of his fearfulness. Loneliness, doubt, insecurity—none of that had any place here.

Hajime’s sigh was audible over the hammering of his heart, and he unclenched Tooru’s fist around his shirt. He put a hand on Tooru’s neck and tried to touch him comfortingly, but Tooru flinched. The feeling of comfort was unbearable right now. He pulled away from Hajime and turned around.

“Oikawa.”

“Don’t,” he said, voice cracking. “There’s nothing more to say, right?”

Hajime exhaled loudly. He didn’t try to argue with him. For the first time since he’d crash landed back in Japan, Tooru knew exactly what he expected from Hajime: for him to stay, to reconcile, to make peace and figure out a solution together. What Hajime did instead was take the plates and close the door behind him. He left Tooru to stand alone and look out the window where the snow had stopped falling and melted altogether.


	3. back to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oikawa makes a fool of himself before redeems himself. Somewhat.

Tooru had admittedly watched _Pride and Prejudice_ a few times, maybe enough to wear the DVD cover and make the disc skip during important scenes. He didn’t enjoy the characters’ singleminded preoccupation with romance, but he did enjoy Mr. Darcy’s mansion. That bust statue of him was a true work of fiction, though, because Mr. Darcy was in no way a looker. The point was that Tooru was sitting on his bed like Elizabeth Bennet had sat on her swing and watched the months go past—except he wasn’t in the English countryside, nor had months passed. More like a matter of hours.

He’d stayed up peering outside his window long enough to watch the sky go from midnight black to a dim blue, passing out only when his eyes would no longer stay open. Then he’d woken up to the sound of children running past the house. He bolted up in bed, and saw that at some point in the night a blanket had been pulled over him.

“What the hell…” he muttered, and checked the time on his phone. Noon. He checked his inbox on LINE, and saw nothing from Hajime. Even though he should have known better, Tooru couldn’t help feeling disappointed. Did he return to Tokyo after all? He scrubbed a hand over his face and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

His mother walked past the door, and stopped. “Oh, you’re awake. You should come down and eat. I saved food for you.”

Tooru nodded. He finished in the bathroom before coming down to the smell of breakfast: fish fillet, tamagoyaki, pickled mustard greens, miso. There was even a package of milk bread next to the bowl of rice. He felt oddly sheepish as he sat down at the table. It had been difficult and strained between him and his mother ever since he’d first visited, but the sight of the milk bread made him feel guilty like he should have been better to her. Or maybe it was the fight with Hajime, which had left him forlorn through the night. Did she know about that? He had no idea how loud he and Hajime had been last night.

“Are you okay? Is something not to your liking?” his mother asked, sitting down at the table.

“No. No, it’s perfect. Thank you.” He started eating, chewing the rice and eggs with enthusiasm. It had been a long time since he’d eaten a meal that wasn’t something he’d prepared or paid for himself. He remembered that his mother always made the miso a little salty, but that tasted familiar and comforting, too. Tooru slurped it up loudly.

“Slow down, you’re going to complain about indigestion later.”

Tooru swallowed thickly. “Tastes good.”

“Haha, what’s with that? Weren’t you the one who used to complain that my soup was too salty? You must have finally matured after suffering on your own abroad.” Her mouth curved up, nearly a mirror of his own smile. Tooru set his chopsticks down.

“I didn’t,” he said, finally.

“Uh-uh, yes you did. Then you’d tell me it would stunt your growth or whatever.” She shook her head. “Whatever the case is, I’m glad you’re eating it well now.”

His mother got to her feet, then, ready to move onto whatever else chores that needed to get finished around the house. Tooru looked up at her, at the strands of silver in the chocolate brown hair that she’d passed down to him. In spite of the greying, she wore it long, because she would be damned if age would make her give up her vanity.

“What?”

“Sorry,” he managed. “I know you just want what’s best for me. And you don’t get why I don’t want to come back here…to where you are.”

Tooru’s mother blinked at him, and it made him want to shrink away in mortification. Surely it wasn’t that rare for him to apologize. He could recall at least three different instances where he’d said sorry because he’d knocked over decorations and furniture with a volleyball indoors. A hand came over his hair, gently stroking the strands of his fringe back.

“You were the kind of baby who came out of the womb fully-grown,” she said. “Even though you were the baby of the family. You didn’t cry or throw tantrums like other kids your age, always out hitting that volleyball and coming back with injuries like they were trophies.

“You’re right: I don’t understand you, but I know that you’re always going to walk down exactly the path that you want to be. Whether I understand or accept it or not isn’t what’s important.”

Tooru stared down at his lap. None of this was helping with his guilt. “Then what am I supposed to do about everything I left here?”

“You want to start asking that now? And not when I was crying hysterically over FaceTime?” His mother ruffled his hair, mussing it beyond repair.

“A-Ah! Okay, I get it! I messed some stuff up! Mom!”

Tooru pushed his mother’s hands away, and she laughed at him. Was the misery that apparent on his face?

“Stop sulking because I didn’t pat your butt and tell you it was all okay.”

“Who says?” he demanded hotly. The gravitas of the demand was ruined when she pinched his cheeks.

“Please, Tooru, I’m your mother.” She smiled down at him, before she let go. “I know you’re in a hurry to get somewhere, but sometimes it’s okay for you to look back and see that there are people here who care about you.”

Tooru’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t ask her for further clarification. He thought he understood what she meant.

“Now finish your food before it gets cold.”

“Yeah, okay,” he answered.

The warmth in his mother’s smile let him know that whatever rift had formed between them was fast on the mend. At least there was one person here who neither totally hated him nor was indifferent to his existence. Tooru’s mouth quirked up weakly as he returned to eating his breakfast. The weight in his chest was a little bit lighter than it had been before.

* * *

Apparently the repair of one relationship could come only when it coincided with the total disintegration of another. Tooru spent the rest of the week staring listlessly at LINE in between going on runs, until he finally decided that he would make his body the strongest and fastest it had ever been. If Hajime didn’t want him, then he would go back to becoming the kind of volleyball player who couldn’t be defeated. He was coming out of a bath after a session of strength training when his mother asked him to go to the store down the street.

“Sure,” he said. It was only when he had his shoes on that he was hit with a sense of déjà vu. He paused at the door, remembering that this was how he’d run into Hajime that first time over a week ago. Then he took a deep breath. Ridiculous. He was just going to the store, and if he saw Hajime, he’d be cool about it because he was Oikawa Tooru, damn it.

Luckily, the coast was clear on the way to the store. Tooru walked in with his head held high to the meat section. The entire shopping trip went without a hitch; he grabbed what he needed and paid the cute employee working the cash register after flirting a little bit. Yes, all in all, this was an overwhelming success. He left the store feeling better about his day, scanning the contents of the shopping bags. Tooru had reached the tall lamppost that led into the neighborhood when he saw that he’d missed the mushrooms.

“Damn it.” He looked back down the road where he’d left the store ten minutes ago. Sighing, he took himself back and stomped into the vegetable section, where he inspected the packaged mushrooms. Tooru reached to pick up one of the enoki mushroom bunches at the same time another shopper did. Their hands collided, and he apologized.

“Go ahead,” he said, before he realized with a panic that it was Hajime. “Oh.”

Hajime’s eyes widened, but then he collected himself just as quickly. He looked at Tooru for a long moment, and Tooru returned the stare coolly. Hajime had opted out of a jacket today, wearing long sleeves under a graphic tee. Did he not get cold? Tooru wrapped his scarf around his neck more tightly. Hajime grabbed one of the mushrooms and dropped it in his basket.

“I’ll try to stay out of your way.” Then he walked away from Tooru without saying anything else. Tooru stared after his back, uncertain whether he wanted to try to stop him. He knew that this time Hajime wouldn’t be the one who tried to make up with him, but that just made Tooru feel even more churlish and resistant to making any conciliatory gestures.

This new development flushed all of Tooru’s resolve to mold his body into the strongest, fastest version of itself down the drain. He went straight to the frozen section of the store and grabbed no less than two tubs of ice cream. When he got to the register, he had the bad luck to be in line right in front of Hajime, who still had no intention of talking to him. He woefully set the ice cream and mushrooms onto the conveyor belt. The cute employee who had cheered him up before held no more interest, and she seemed a little taken aback by his change in demeanor.

“Um…have a nice day?” she said.

“I’ll try. Thank you.” He stuffed his shameful purchases into his bag and walked out of the store as fast as he could. If there were anyone marking his time for quickest escape, Tooru would surely have made the world record. He deliberated on how big of a bowl of vanilla and strawberry ice cream he could reasonably eat before dinner.

“Oikawa!”

Footfalls. A light jog. Tooru stopped immediately and turned around at the sound of Hajime’s voice. He was coming directly towards him. Was it their fate to reconcile over domestic goods? Tooru couldn’t say it was the most romantic thing ever, but he wasn’t going to be picky. 

“What?” he huffed, heart beating faster.

Hajime held out his hand. In it was Tooru’s wallet. He stared.

“You left this at the register.”

“Ah, did I?” Tooru took the wallet back mechanically and put it in his pocket. Of course. Hajime was the kind of person who would still make sure Tooru was healthy and well, even if he never wanted to see his face again. The tubs of ice cream in his bag were calling his name.

“Well, thank you. I’ll make sure not to inconvenience you like this ever again,” he said, feeling faint as he turned and continued on his path back to his mother’s home. 

Tooru made the journey back in a daze. In fact, he did everything thereafter in a daze: changing out of his outerwear, scooping up the ice cream, breaking open one of the jars of dulce de leche in his suitcase and pouring it all over his ice cream. It was only when he scraped the bottom of his bowl that he reflected on what he’d said to Hajime.

“What the hell!” he screeched. He might have been loud enough to be heard throughout the neighborhood.

* * *

Two days before the new year, Tooru had finished all the ice cream, after which he regretted it immediately and began doing ball drills in the backyard for hours at a time. His goal was to work the ball enough to erase the kanji with Hajime’s name written in permanent ink on the lamination. Every time he saw it while doing overhead passes against the wall, his blood pressure rose dangerously. No matter how much he slammed down the ball, however, the ink didn’t fade. He took the balls up to his room and dropped them on the floor, next to his suitcase. This was how he remembered that he’d never given Hajime or his parents their presents. He picked up the book tucked away in the sleeve compartment of the suitcase.

Tooru sighed. He had half a mind to leave the presents with his mother, no matter how cowardly that would be. Would she have a chance to give it to Hajime, though? Tooru thought about how he’d insisted on taking him to the airport on the way back home. Well now he wouldn’t want to do anything like that, and Tooru would have to take himself back down on the bullet train as he originally intended to.

He ran his thumbs over the worn cover of the book on cryptids. It was frayed and yellowed, with some tears in the dust jacket. However, the paper was high quality, acid-free, with a spine that hadn’t tattered in all the years since its publication. Tooru had purchased the book in the store without much thought, just that he’d wanted to give it to Hajime. Then it had sat on his book shelf at home for months on end: he’d meant to send it in the mail, but he’d started to fret that it would get lost in international shipping. So he’d held onto it, and now he didn’t even have the courage to go give it to Hajime himself.

No, he would do it. Coincidence or not, he’d run into Hajime again after nearly eight months of radio silence. Tooru might have been the worst, but he wasn’t so bad that he would vanish from Hajime’s sight without so much as an announcement. The thought occurred to him that Hajime would get really and properly angry if Tooru left without saying goodbye; it would make his could shoulder right now look like a walk in the park during mild springtime weather.

Gathering the presents, Tooru stood up and put on a jacket. He went downstairs and jammed his sneakers on, all in a methodical order before he could lose his nerve. The walk to Hajime’s house was both long and short, and Tooru tried not to think about anything as he pressed the intercom buzzer.

There was only silence. Tooru cursed under his breath. If no one answered, he definitely wouldn’t be able to come back. There was only a week before he left Japan to go back home, too. He stepped back to peer over the gate, in hopes of seeing someone at home. Then there was a tinny voice over the intercom: “Hello?”

Hajime. Tooru ran back to the intercom. “It’s me. Um, Oikawa. Tooru.” Really? Seriously? Like there was any other significant Oikawa in Hajime’s life. Or maybe there was and Tooru had been correct to clarify.

“What do you want?” Hajime’s voice was full of suspicion. Tooru couldn’t help smiling a little bit, knowing exactly what kind of expression he was probably making right now.

“To talk. To an old friend.” He lifted the bag in his hands. “And to drop off some things.” 

There was only a moment of hesitation before the buzzer rang, and Tooru pulled open the metal gate of the Iwaizumi house. The weight of the door and texture of the handle was familiar in his grasp, as was the footpath up to the front door where Hajime stood in the threshold.

* * *

The sun was unseasonably bright in the sky, and it shone through the wide windows in the living room. Hajime stood with his hands in his pockets, like he didn’t know what to do with them otherwise. Next to the dated family pictures on the wall, Hajime looked even more startlingly adult than Tooru had first noticed. After nearly a lifetime of spending so many of their waking moments together, they’d made up for it by flinging themselves across the globe before reuniting for the first time in years.

“Your parents aren’t home?”

“Nope. Off visiting friends and relatives. You know, for the new year.”

Tooru set the bag with the Malbec wine and leather gloves on the coffee table. “Then I’ll leave this here for them. It’s not much, but hopefully they’ll find some use for it.”

Hajime peered inside the bag past the tissue paper. He was so nosy. Tooru pretended not to be watching him as he took stock of the contents of the bag.

“Is that _wine_?” he asked. “Do I get wine?”

“Who says I got you anything?”

“So you didn’t?”

Tooru shrugged and held out the book in its brown paper bag. Hajime took it and pulled out the book, lips pursing when he saw that it was neither wine nor some other likely souvenir. He studied the cover of the book and opened it; his hand supported the spine as he carefully flipped through the pages.

“This is…a book about monsters.”

“Argentinean monsters,” Tooru supplied helpfully. “Like, cryptids and stuff. You know. I mean, if you’re still into that. I wasn’t sure, but I saw it and thought of you.”

Hajime was quiet for longer than two seconds, which was exactly the kind of cue Tooru needed to lose his cool. His palms began to sweat, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Maybe I should have gotten you something more extravagant? Haha, well, it’s not too late, since I can mail it to you. I meant to mail you the book, too, but then I kept worrying about whether it would get lost in customs. That’s a first edition, you know. It’s not even in print anymore. But if you don’t like it, then you can give it back. Or throw it out. Whatever.”

When Hajime didn’t answer him, not even to tell him he was ridiculous and frivolous, Tooru couldn’t help himself. “Will you say something?”

“It’s, uh, I do still like it.” He pulled out his phone and showed Tooru the back of the case. A purple Godzilla silhouette was chomping down on a skyscraper. It was ugly and stupid and perfect. Hajime pocketed his phone and closed the book. “Thanks. I’ll try to read it.”

He was turning the book over in his hands, eyes alight like they were whenever he encountered some novelty item or another. Tooru felt foolish for having avoided him for so long, and now there were even fewer days left of his stay in Japan. He balled up his fists at his sides and blurted out: “Sorry!”

Hajime blinked up at him. “What?”

“Sorry. For the other day. And for…the other thing—no, I mean the papers. I already signed them, so I can’t take it back, but I’m sorry. I told you that nothing would have changed even if I’d said something to you, and maybe that’s true. Still, I should have known it wasn’t just about the results. I should have said something to you before, and after I did it, too, instead of staying silent for so long.”

Tooru gasped for breath. He’d never been good at apologies or extending peace offerings. All he had thought to bring was a flimsy book about cryptids, as though he and Hajime were still kids making up after fights with sticks of candy. Unlike back then, Hajime wasn’t so quick to thaw; the hurts were all bigger now, because they were bigger, too. He had hurt Hajime, and maybe it was in a way that meant they couldn’t recover. The thought suddenly made him fearful. It was difficult to tell what Hajime was thinking, with how impassively he was looking at him. Tooru was too scared to ask. He ducked his head.

“I’ll go now,” he announced, and turned to see himself to the front door. Tooru had barely taken a step when Hajime spoke.

“Is that it?”

Huh? Tooru whipped his head back around. What more did he want? Had Tooru forgotten to add something? “Is what it?”

Hajime licked his lips, gathering his words. There was uncertainty in his face when he asked, “Has there ever been a time that you wanted me? Like really wanted me?”

Tooru stared. His cheeks heated at the openness in Hajime’s words. It was so rare for Hajime to show him anything other than his self-assured side that it took Tooru a moment to parse the look on his face.

“You know what, never mind. Forget I said anything.” Hajime turned away from him. The tips of his ears had become pink. Tooru stared some more, eyes going wide with disbelief.

“Wait! You can’t just say something like that then tell me to forget it!”

“I can if I want to!” Hajime snapped.

“No, you can’t!”

“Oh, and who’s going to stop me? You?”

With no one else at home to scold them, their voices echoed loud off the walls—though Hajime often described his as shrill—and well, wasn’t this just classic? Tooru had lost countless shouting matches with Hajime, but he wasn’t going to be thwarted so easily this time. He didn’t give any warning before he grabbed Hajime by the arm. He wanted to see the rest of Hajime’s face, to figure out what he was trying to say. Hajime let Tooru pull him back to stand in front of him. Rather than try to win at this game, Tooru broke first.

“Will you just tell me? I’ll find out later anyway, won’t I?”

Hajime’s brow creased, but he didn’t argue his point. That much had always been true between them.

“What do you even think about the future? Where do you see yourself five years from now? Or ten? You didn’t even think to tell me that you were going to naturalize, but then you kissed me. Why?”

This was his question? Tooru’s fingers twitched in their grip on Hajime’s arm. “Huh? Obviously because I like you.” Was he supposed to have another reason?

Hajime’s eyebrows raised incredulously. He was getting irritated. “So, what, you don’t think about things past today? Whatever you do, fuck the consequences until tomorrow, is that it?”

“What? No!” Tooru hadn’t made some detailed longterm plan before kissing Hajime, but it didn’t mean he was so careless. Then again, he hadn’t exactly demonstrated that to Hajime.

Swallowing his indignation, Tooru said, “You’re right: I didn’t really think about it before I kissed you, or even when I was back in San Juan. I just thought, since we promised to face each other someday, that I’d always end up back somewhere with you.”

Hajime stared at him, face gone slack. “Holy shit,” he breathed, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“What? What’s with that reaction?”

Hajime wasn’t listening to him, muttering something low under his breath that Tooru couldn’t make out. He thought he heard a vehement ‘Shittykawa’ in there somewhere.

“Hey! If you’re going to insult me, then at least do it so I can hear!”

Hajime lowered his hands and looked at him. Thoughts and feelings that Tooru couldn’t quite place were playing out on Hajime’s face, but before he could ask, Hajime was grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket. Tooru didn’t quite understand what this development was either. However, Hajime didn’t seem angry anymore, so he wasn’t going to complain. Contrary to what Hajime said, he knew how to toe the line.

“I said: you’re stupid, Shittykawa. I can’t believe you seriously walk around with such an empty head.”

“What? That’s really mean!” Never mind that it was true, probably. 

“That’s the least of what you deserve, you piece of shit,” Hajime said. Then he leaned up and pressed his lips to Tooru’s.

Tooru blinked, eyes comically wide as his brain tried to catch up to what was happening. He only managed to squeeze Hajime’s arm when Hajime pulled back. A flush was rising to the apples of his cheeks as he looked up at Tooru.

“This means I forgive you. As usual.”

Tooru nodded, speechless. His lips tingled. “Thank you. I think. You’re always so generous with me, Hajime-san.” 

The line of Hajime’s mouth wavered and he laughed. “You’re so fucking weird.”

Tooru smiled in spite of himself. “It’s to make sure you always have someone to bully.”

They both laughed at that. Tenderness didn’t come to Tooru easily, but it didn’t feel so necessary to be hardened right now. It seemed simple to let his hand travel up to the side of Hajime’s neck and stroke the line of his jaw. Hajime swallowed; the whole line of his body was yielding against Tooru’s. Just the way it should have been.

Tooru studied him for only a moment before he kissed him. He didn’t wait to press his tongue to Hajime’s lips. When he was let inside, he swirled his tongue against Hajime’s and breathed hard through his nose. Hajime’s grip tightened on his jacket, his breath stuttering out with quiet little huffs. Fuck. He tugged Hajime closer to him and coaxed his tongue out before sucking on it. Hajime moaned. Tooru pulled away gasping. The two of them stared at each other; there was alarm in Hajime’s eyes, but also a low-simmering excitement. He looked at the slick on Hajime’s lower lip, the little bit on the corner of his mouth. That was from him.

“Shit. Can we do that again?”

Hajime snorted. “If you want to keep it to kissing in my parents’ living room, I’m going to be a little bit pissed.”

The corner of Tooru’s mouth lifted. “Then what?”

Hajime let go of Tooru’s jacket and wrapped his fingers around his thumb. “Want to go to my room instead?”

Tooru nodded, and let Hajime pull him along. All in all, it wasn’t so different from the usual. The destination hadn’t changed, after all, even if the route had.


	4. coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes are just the saddest thing.

Traveling to Narita Airport was a hassle, but Hajime had insisted on coming with him anyway. Tooru’s mother had seen the two of them off at the bus station, hiding (badly) her tears as she patted Tooru’s cheek. Even though she said nothing, he could tell all the words on the tip of her tongue: don’t work too hard, are you sure you’re eating enough, why didn’t you stay longer. He’d pulled her into his arms and stroked the crown of her head.

“I’ll come see you again soon,” he promised.

Afterwards, she’d turned to Hajime and began making plans on how she was going to visit him in Tokyo, like Tooru had already gotten on the plane and left for San Juan, nowhere to be seen. He’d huffed a little and crossed his arms while Hajime nodded dutifully and vowed to take her to dinner.

“She’s just lonely,” Hajime said, when they were off on the bus towards Narita.

Tooru leaned his chin against his hand on the windowsill. “I know.”

It was something that Hajime and his mother shared in common, apparently. Tooru didn’t know why he had to feel guilty now of all times. Maybe it was because the reality of going back home after the visit was finally hitting him. It had been so much easier when he was nineteen with the world at his feet, Hajime already packed off to Irvine and only himself to account for on the way to Argentina to meet his mentor. Hadn’t this been the real reason he hadn’t come back to Miyagi for so long? The fear that the comfort of a warm bed and home-cooked meals made just the way he liked it would make him soft and all-too secure.

“Are you moping?” Hajime asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Who? Me? Nope. Not at all.”

Hajime looked at him skeptically, but didn’t argue the point. They were in for a long few hours to the airport. It wasn’t a good idea to get into it at the onset of their journey. Tooru looped his fingers around Hajime’s apologetically. He relaxed when Hajime squeezed. The two of them sat wordlessly in the quiet of the bus cabin until Hajime fell asleep. Tooru pulled his head onto his shoulder and listened to the sound of his breathing as the familiar mountain scenery passed him by.

The bus ride felt interminable, but as soon as they got to Narita, everything passed by in a whirl. Tooru’s luggage was taken by the airline attendant, and he was given his boarding pass all the way back to Argentina, where it was still yesterday. If he and Hajime were in Argentina, then they would have more time, wouldn’t they? He tried not to feel melancholy as he clutched the bag of milk bread that his mother had packed for him. The airport atrium was half way to empty, as expected of a red eye flight. He and Hajime sat on one of the marble benches and stared down at their feet to await the inevitable.

“I want to show you—” he started to say at the same time that Hajime asked, “When do you need to head in?”

They paused. Then, “You go first,” Hajime said.

Tooru swallowed. He trained his gaze down at his sneakers. “I want to show you San Juan. Sometime. When you get the free time.”

Hajime said nothing. When Tooru looked up, he was looking straight at him. “Okay,” he said.

“It’s kind of small, so I don’t know whether you’d like it, but it’s my home now. So I want you to see it.” He fiddled with the loose thread on his joggers. “I want you to like it, too, but it’s okay even if you don’t. I can also move somewhere bigger that you’d like better. Or maybe I’ll buy a really big villa with a home gym so you can keep being a meathead—”

“Are you…are you proposing to me right now?”

Tooru trailed off, suddenly feeling foolish. Hajime’s face was bright red, and Tooru was starting to mirror him. His cheeks were hot, and he lost his footing in the conversation. The rest of the people in the airport seemed unaware of his plight, walking past with their rolling suitcases like it was just another Wednesday.

“W-Wait! I thought we were—that is. I mean.” Tooru was stuttering. He shut up for a moment to collect himself, burying his head in his hands. “I didn’t mean for it to happen in an airport lobby. Damn it.”

Hajime nudged his foot with his own. “Hey, Dummy Oikawa—”

Tooru bolted up at that. “Could you not call me that in this extremely sensitive situation?”

“You just proposed to me in front of half of Japan—”

“We’re in Chiba! And this is not half of Japan! Not even a tenth!”

“—so you better not go back on your word.”

“Are you even listening to me?”

Hajime leaned forward and kissed him once on the lips. “Not even a little bit.”

Tooru’s heart fluttered just a little bit. He didn’t think he was ever going to get used to Hajime’s boldness in public. “Oh, okay, well, feel free to continue not listening, then.”

“Like I needed permission from you.” Hajime stood to his feet, then, and looked at his watch. “You should get going.”

Tooru nodded, his stomach sinking by the moment. He walked with Hajime to the security entrance. They stood at the gate, uncertain of how to properly say their goodbyes. Tooru shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“I’ll like it,” Hajime said.

“Excuse me?”

“San Juan, I mean. Or wherever else you are. I’ll like it, so whatever you do, just make sure you save the spot next to you. Oh, and make the home gym, too. I want that.”

Tooru smiled, and then his vision misted over. “You’re so stupid, Iwa-chan.”

To their mutual horror, Tooru began crying, too hard for either of them to ignore. Hajime wiped his tears away, brow furrowed in concern. He was pressing a tissue to his face when Tooru grabbed it instead. Now his eyes were probably red-rimmed and swollen unattractively.

“I’ll save it, so you have to come running when I say,” he sniffled.

Hajime snorted. “Don’t I always?”

And because he was patient, Hajime let Tooru hide his face in his shoulder until it really was time to go. He waved from the foot of the escalator at Tooru, who looked for only a brief second before turning his back for good.

Parting was bitter, but he comforted himself by thinking about what Hajime had said. It was a promise, one that Tooru carried with him as he crossed the threshold—across the security gate and the rest of the way back home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to anyone who read this behemoth! Contrary to my bibliography, these two were my first HQ!! otp. I hope to have done them justice.
> 
> I'm on [twitter](http://twitter.com/catspizzas) most days.


End file.
